


This December

by YassHomo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dom Akechi Goro, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Ive dicked around with the timeline to get them to kiss, Jealousy, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protectiveness, Slow Build, Slow Burn, THAT BEING SAID, There are two people in this world I do NOT want to read this or these tags, Time Line Fuckery, Yusuke appears earlier because fuck it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YassHomo/pseuds/YassHomo
Summary: In which Akira slowly befriends a reluctant Black Mask, and this brings about significant changes.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 34
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls may I emphasis the timeline fuckery  
> This is mostly canon so spoilers ahead

Travelling alone in Mementos was dangerous.

Akira did it anyway.

He had always been better at giving advice rather than following it himself, and the moment Morgana introduced the alternate form of Shibuya Station, Akira knew with a certainty that he would be returning to this place alone.

There was rationale to his recklessness; for one, more time spent here would help further familiarise himself with the Metaverse and the shadows lurking within. Additionally, this was training, and he amassed far more strength when fighting alone.

Though, truthfully, none of these reasons truly mattered, because in Mementos, Akira simply lost himself in the mindless violence. His solo trips to Mementos were stolen moments of no responsibility, where the only back he had to watch was his own. Besides, Akira had always been something of an adventurer.

Each time, he would cite his reason for leaving as needing a respite from the company of others, and this was true enough - he just wasn’t entirely honest with where he was going. Gradually, as his visits to Mementos increased, he grew more confident in his own abilities.

Despite this, he never strayed past the first two platforms. Doing so would be far too perilous, even if he could feel himself become stronger. Besides, if he did go any further, the chances of him getting lost exponentially increased.

So, Akira allowed himself to flit between the first two areas, mindful of his stamina. The half hour passed in the usual blur of fighting and wandering, not too careful with keeping alert with his surroundings. Things hadn’t been difficult for him in a while, and that lulled him into a sense of security.

It was why, when something told him to stop walking _\- to turn around and to stand on guard -_ he instantly faltered in his steps. These intrinsic, instinctive warnings were what set each nerve on end. He turned, slowly, steadying his dagger in a tight grip.

Nothing.

Akira wasn’t convinced. He backed himself against a wall, ensuring that he couldn’t be sneaked up behind and ambushed. Still, nothing. Cautiously, he lowered his dagger, eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness. “Hello?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a shadow move. Immediately, his heart leapt into his throat and his hackles raised. Akira shifted, pointing his dagger at the offending area, and gingerly took a few paces forward, but upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be empty space.

He sighed, marginally relieved, but despite the confirmation that he was, in fact, alone, Akira was still unsettled. Wordlessly, he sheathed his dagger, half expecting something to abruptly jump out at him as he relaxed his defensive position.

Shadows didn’t _stalk,_ and Akira felt _hunted._ Normally, he would push himself further, but the silently shifting shadows and deafening silence were beyond haunting. He glanced around him, taking in the scene, but noticed no discrepancies.

Maybe he was being paranoid. Still, Akira knew he wouldn’t be productive, so he left Mementos with the odd, unsettled feeling that he was being closely _watched._

The feeling doesn’t truly leave him, not until he was safe in the attic room of the Leblanc, with Morgana tucked into his side and leeching off of his body warmth. With the distance and some time for reflection, Akira was able to decide that the whole situation was just the result from his anxious imagination.

Unless. What if there were _more_ Persona users in the world? Was that even possible?

He is snapped out of his reverie with a sharp, jarring chime from his phone. He huffed, shifting to read the notification. It turned out to be a text from Ann. Morgana sat up with a huff, as though he wasn’t choosing to look at the messages from his own volition.

_‘Are you ready for the field day?’_

Akira paused, racking his brains to try and recall any mention of a field day, but drew a blank. _‘The what?’_

The reply was almost instantaneous. _‘I just had the same conversation with Ryuji. Do either of you pay attention?’_

“I do.” Morgana muttered, sounding somewhat put out. He curled back down, and his next words were muffled by an extended yawn. Sleepily, the cat added, “Studio field trip. Tomorrow. Work experience.”

Akira sent back a quick _‘thanks for the warning,’_ to Ann before settling into a surprisingly relaxed sleep. He didn’t dream of iron prison bars or of strange, slinking shadows - just a pleasant blankness that engulfed his thoughts and converted them into nothingness.

The morning passed as it usually did - waking up just before his alarm, then opting to relish in the dozed mindset for a few minutes longer before being interrupted by the harsh, tinny sound of _‘default alarm: dewdrops on petals’_. The name was unfortunately kinder than reality.

He set about his routine, the only difference being that a bus was waiting outside of the school, with some of his classmates already boarded. He was soon ushered on, but was saved from the social dance of making eye contact with someone reluctant to share their space by Ann beckoning him over with a cheerful wave.

Akira took the empty pair of seats directly in front of her, placing the bag - and by extension, Morgana - besides him, in lieu of informal reservation for Ryuji. As though anyone would actually want to sit next to the delinquent.

Eventually, Ryuji skidded onto the bus (three minutes late), and the bus started the hour-long trip to the studio. For the most part, Akira drowned out the world with his headphones, only vaguely paying attention to Ryuji and Ann bicker.

Halfway through, Morgana began to wriggle, whining that he was getting stuffy, so Akira allowed him to crawl out, still mostly hidden by the bag. He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, and began to engage with the discussion between Ann and Ryuji, his distinctively feline vocalisation covered up by the general hubbub and commotion of a bunch of teenagers locked in a confined space.

After what felt like a handful of minutes, they pulled up outside of the modern building. He reluctantly parted ways with his idle daydreaming and followed his class. The place was far busier than he had anticipated. Though, it soon became apparent that the studio was more invested in _‘stage hands’_ than _‘educational experiences’_ as he and Ryuj were soon dragged away to carry equipment by a brusque, perpetually angry man.

The next few hours were spent trying to balance various bits of metal, half of which he had no idea what the function was. When they were given a break, Ryugi exchanged glances with him, peevishly declaring, “This sucks.”

“Yep.” Akira agreed, because it did.

“I hate this.” Ryuji continued. He scuffed the sole of his shoe against the floor, scowling. “My muscles are never gonna recover.”

“Quit whining.” Morgana piped up, ducking through the unzipped gap to fix them a stern look.

Ryugi threw his hands up. “ _You_ do it, if it’s so easy.”

“What am I supposed to do? _I’m_ a _cat._ ”

“Aha!” Ryuji shouted, gesticulating wildly at Akira’s backpack with an entirely misplaced triumphance at having one-overed a cat. “He _admits_ it! You heard that too, Akira, right?”

Morgana sighed loudly, as though he had reached his limit of Ryuji for today. He flicked his ears back, disapproving. “I’m in the _physical form_ of a cat. What’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t have breakfast today.” Ryuji sniffed after a moment, vaguely defensive. Morgana snorted, ducking back into the bag, causing Ryuji to grow further agitated. “I could beat your ass any day, you stupid cat.”

Predictably, Morgana reappeared, eyes narrowed. “I am _not-!"_

“Ryuji, quit antagonising Morgana.” Ann broke in. Both Akira and Ryuji turned, surprised to find that Ann had succeeded in walking up to them without notice. For a moment, Akira was reminded of last night in Mementos.

Morgana seemed less surprised, muttering a slightly sullen, “Thank you.” 

"I need to talk to you guys later." Akira said, now that they were once again all gathered. Immediately, Ryugi opened his mouth to ask questions, and Akira reaffirmed, “Later. It’ll take a while to explain, and we have about five minutes of break left.”

"It's not like anyone's _listening_ …” Ryuji grumbled, and resumed scuffing his shoes against the floor with a vengeance. “This day is so fucking boring.”

Ann frowned, ignoring Ryuji’s complaints. “It’s not anything serious, right?”

“Not really, no.” Akira said, shaking his head. At this, Ann hummed, content with letting the subject drop. Ryuji still seemed impatient to know what was to be discussed, and he seemed to be a moment away from giving another comment, but before he could, he was interrupted by a new voice.

"Good afternoon." Akira jumped, just barely, having not even heard the stranger approach. This seemed to be becoming something of a habit, and a dangerous one at that. "Ah, have I startled you? I apologise."

“It’s no issue.” Akira replied, turning to face the interloper properly.

He looked about their age - maybe slightly older - but there was an air about him, something calm and self-assured, but there was an _edge_ to it. The narrowly hidden hint of _something_ that Akira simply couldn’t identify. 

And his eyes were _sharp_ , as though he could just see right through Akira. For a second, there was a flash of something vaguely akin to recollection or surprise across the stranger’s expression, but it was gone before Akira could place a name to it.

Ann cleared her throat, and Akira abruptly realised that he had been staring. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed for some inexplicable reason, but thankfully nobody seemed to pick up on this.

"What do you want?" Ryuji asked, blunt as ever, causing both Akira and Ann to wince.

To his credit, the stranger didn’t seem to take much offense to Ryuji’s impertinence. "Oh, nothing. I just thought it would be polite to greet you, as we're going to be working together tomorrow."

"You're from that detective show.” Ann piped up. She smiled, likely trying to make up for Ryuji’s less than sociable first impression. “Akechi-san, right?"

“Show?” Ryuji repeated blankly. “You know this guy?”

Ann glared, wordlessly imploring Ryuji to be nicer. The stranger - Akechi - was regarding the three of them with an expression of polite curiosity, one that Akira could not vouch the validity of. Akechi seemed to pick up on the fact that he was under scrutiny, as he glanced towards Akira.

A pause.

"I must be going.” Akechi said, looking away from Akira and addressing the three - four, including a concealed Morgana - as a group. He inclined his head. “It was nice to meet you."

With a final, curious glance at Akira, the stranger turned smartly, walking down the corridor. Akira watched him leave, feeling vaguely disconcerted, but soon dismissed this in favour of observing Ann as she swatted Ryuji’s arm. “Would it _kill_ you to be polite?”

Ryuji made an affronted noise, guarding himself from further bodily harm. Defensively, “What sort of asshole jumps into someone else’s conversation?”

“He was being _nice._ ” Ann said, exasperated, then gave a significant glance between both him and Ryuji before adding, “Unlike some people.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Akira objected, mildly offended at being put on the same level as Ryuji. “I wasn’t as bad as he was. I was _friendly_.”

Ann raised a doubtful eyebrow as Ryuji gave him an indignant scowl. “Oh, so silently trying to stare him down was just part of you bein’ friendly?”

“That wasn’t-” Akira hesitated, considering this. He cleared his throat, conceding with a grudging, “You may have a point.”

"Back to work." Ann sighed, glancing down at her phone.

"Urgh."

The rest of the day passed at a gruelling pace, made even longer by Ryuji’s constant complaining. Afterwards, they were sent to the reception, where the rest of their class were converging before being led back to the bus, taking up their original seats.

Ryuji turned to him. “So, what was that thing you wanted to talk about?”

Akira blinked, unsure of how to best phase the current situation. If he revealed his occasional journeys alone in Mementos, the chances were, he would have to deal with three different people complaining for the rest of the hour. Despite the scare he received yesterday, his time in Mementos was still something he enjoyed, so it was best to play with his cards close to his chest. “Do you think there are other Persona users?”

“It’s possible... but highly unlikely.” Morgana allowed. “I’ve gone my entire life not running into another Persona user - you three, plus Yusuke, are the only ones I know of. Besides, there are only so many places for Persona users to go. We’d run into them by now.”

“Right.” Akira agreed. “But it’s not _impossible_.”

“No, it isn’t.” Morgana confirmed. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just wondering.” He shrugged.

Ryuji stretched his arms out, almost bashing Morgana in the face with that movement. “If there was, then we’d outnumber him.”

“He might not be a threat, Ryuji.” Morgana scoffed, scowling at the near miss.

“Or her.” Ann cut in. “It would be nice to have another girl on the team.”

“I’d say.” Ryuji grinned.

Ann looked _severely_ unimpressed, and put this across with a simple but expressive, “ _Gross_.”

With that, Ryuji and Ann engaged in yet another round of bickering with the occasional interjection from Morgana. Akira sighed, pulling up his headphones and zoning out once again.

There was something about that night in Mementos, something that told him his instincts weren’t wrong - that he was being followed, and that the follower was a Persona user. One thing was certain, though. Tonight he would return. With any luck, the other person(?) would be there. Maybe they’d even get to talking.

Akira huffed. His blind optimism could only extend so far.

The bus pulled up to the school, and they went their separate ways. Morgana was silent on the way home - perhaps travel sick, as this was the longest he had ever been in a bag. Akira grimaced at the thought.

Sojiro nodded to him as he entered the Leblanc, a gesture Akira returned before heading straight up to the attic. The moment he put his bag down, Morgana jumped out, giving a small wriggle before taking up his usual perch on the desk.

“I’m going on a walk in an hour or so.” He informed the cat.

Morgana made a disapproving noise. “You should probably rest up, Akira - that camera equipment looked heavy.”

“I’m not doing anything that strenuous.” Akira shrugged, which was true enough. Maybe at some point Akira would gain enough confidence to head deeper into the depths of Mementos, but currently, he lacked the guts.

Morgana grumbled a bit more, but settled down reluctantly, and eventually settled into a light doze. Akira took this moment of distraction as an opportunity, packing some of the required equipment for his excursions.

True to his word, he left after fifty minutes, biting back a smile at Morgana’s drowsy ‘ _stay safe_ ’ before heading out. He put his hood up, not wanting to be recognised, just in case one of the Phantom Thieves were wandering around Shibuya. 

Soon, he stood in front of the entrance to Mementos, pulled out his phone, and tapped the Nav. Within seconds, he was enveloped by the constricting feeling of being forced into the Metaverse.

He equipped his weapons, but kept his dagger out in his hand. Before stepping off the platform and onto the tracks below, he waited, trying to sense if the other person(?) was actually there. He felt nothing, no sudden jolt of awareness, so he sheathed his dagger, jumping down onto the railroad, and began to wander.

The shadows really weren’t challenging in the way Akira wanted them to be. It had gotten to the point where he wouldn’t even need to call forward a Persona - he was able to sort them with a blade or a gun. He cleared the floor with ease, and headed to the second floor.

Not much changed, aside from the fact that the shadows were more aggressive. Even when being ambushed by three different shadows in a row, Akira barely took any damage. After that particular battle, he sighed, cleaning off his knife with some dissatisfaction.

It would seem that he would be going further into Mementos, and soon.

He placed back his dagger.

Then paused.

It was that feeling, and more intense than it had been last night.

_Turn around and stand on guard._

He didn’t reach for his dagger, going against all of his instincts, but he did turn. Again, he was matched with an eerily tranquil darkness. No matter how closely he looked, he couldn’t detect any movements or any solid shape. He cleared his throat. “I know you’re there.”

Still, there was nothing. This time, Akira refused to let himself back down. He could feel the eyes watching him like a physical presence, and was able to pinpoint the general direction of whoever it was. He took a careful step forward, not breaking his stare at the patch of gloominess.

The shadow moved with a speed that Akira was not expecting.

Akira yelped, jerking back - despite being the one to take some steps forward, he hadn't _actually_ been convinced anyone - anything - would be there. The shadow was still mostly concealed by the shade, but he could just barely make out the shape of a figure. Human, then. Almost certainly a Persona user, and one that was making their way towards the exit.

Akira followed, but he could immediately tell that he wouldn’t be able to keep up. "Wait! I'm not going to hurt you."

The figure paused. “How _generous_."

Akira blinked in surprise, both at the reply itself and at the voice - it was _modulated_ beyond recognition, and it made his hair stand on end with a sudden wave of anxiety. He could feel the eyes on him, cold and dissecting. A pause, then a scoff. "I cannot make the same promise.”

That didn’t bode well. Akira swallowed against the nervousness, taking another step forward. “Can we talk?”

There was an audible scoff, and the figure was moving again.

Akira faltered, before rushing to catch up. He reached out to the figure, to get whoever it was to face him. It was a reckless move, but one that he had to make - otherwise, there would be no telling what threat the stranger posed. His hand briefly made contact with the other’s arm.

Then, abruptly, the wind was knocked from his chest as his back slammed into the wall. He lurched forwards - or at least, would have, had an arm not immediately braced against his neck, firm and unforgiving.

 _Oh, shit_.

The fact that a knife hadn’t immediately plunged into his stomach was a testament to - something, but Akira was aware of the danger he was in. The close proximity brought the figure into a dim light.

It was no wonder the other person was able to remain unseen for so long - his armour was almost entirely black, including the oddly delicate form of his mask. All distinguishing features were covered up, including his eye colour.

In comparison to Akira’s attempts of hiding his own identity, he looked positively _amateurish_.

"Touch me again." The Black Mask began, acid poured upon each distorted word, the pressure against his throat going from uncomfortable to _choking._ "And you will no longer be in possession of your hands. Understood?"

By the look in his eyes, Akira just knew that he _meant_ it. The Black Mask eased his hold against Akira’s neck just long enough for him to give a rushed, "Understood."

The Black Mask stared down at him, something he somehow managed despite only having an inch or so in height over him. Akira stared back, squaring his jaw and refusing to give the other the satisfaction of picking up on his nervousness.

He was suddenly released, and in the span of five seconds, Akira had recovered enough to stand straight and the Black Mask was gone. He sighed, rubbing gingerly at his neck. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too obvious a mark - Morgana would immediately notice and begin asking questions Akira simply couldn’t answer.

At least he knew three things with a certainty he had not possessed earlier. One; there was another Persona user using Mementos. Two; this stranger - the Black Mask - was far, far stronger than _all_ of the Phantom Thieves combined. It was obvious with the heavy, dangerous aura around him. This issue could be fixed with practice, but the knowledge that there was an enemy they currently didn’t have a chance against was strangely sobering.

Three; the Black Mask was a threat. Not because of the disparity between their power levels, but because of how adverse he seemed to Akira’s presence. There was the potential that, some time in the future, they would have to go _tete-a-tete._ Akira could only hope that it didn’t come to that - and if it did, he hoped that it was far in the future.

He travelled back to the Leblanc, flipped the ‘open’ sign over at Sojiro’s request before heading upstairs. He set his alarm for the morning, setting tomorrow’s uniform out on his desk and putting his phone on charge. It was late enough to be considered nighttime. 

Morgana stood up, stretching his front and then hind legs before bounding over, waiting for Akira to lie down before going to lie on his stomach. “How was your walk?”

Akira gave a tired sigh. “The usual.”

The next morning was yet another repeat of monotony, barring the small divergence of him ducking into the bathroom to see the damage, if any, done to his neck. Akira craned his head up, exposing his throat. It took a few moments to notice the discolouration. It was thankfully very subtle.

Today would fortunately be the final day of the field trip, and Akira was looking forward to the end of it. Ryuji seemed to be of the same mindset, as the moment he flopped down next to Akira on the bus, he started the conversation with, " _Another_ day of work. Any more, and I’ll have a walking stick by thirty."

"Quit complaining." Morgana huffed, head poking out of the bag.

Instantly, Ryuji started with a sharp, “Well, I don’t see _you-”_

Akira was hit with a sudden, overwhelmingly exasperated sense of deja vu. He pointedly frowned at them. “Do you really want to start this up again?”

Both of them mumbled under their breath, clearly not too content with dropping what was the pettiest argument he had ever had the misfortune to bear witness to. Though, his stern expression worked, as they were no longer bickering.

Instead, Ryuji and Ann were.

Baby steps, he supposed. Ann didn’t hold a grudge like he knew Morgana could, so he decided to take this as a marginal improvement. He put his headphones on, drowning out the rest of the world and staring out the window.

Instead of being led away to different areas as they were the day before, he and his class were packed into a large set room. Akira wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this experience, but it was a welcomed change from having to lift various pieces of heavy appliances.

The majority of the female students broke into excited murmuring. Akira mostly ignored it, trying to find a compromise with Morgana and bag placement, but Ryuji caught his attention by loudly stating, "Oh shit, that's the guy from yesterday."

“What?” He asked sharply, sitting up. His eyes scanned for the Black Mask, before his brain caught up with the current circumstances and he winced.

Ryuji gave him a speculative side eye, then gestured towards the stage. “You know, the _great_ detective prince.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at the tone but didn’t comment on it. He followed the gesture, and found the person in question almost instantly. Presently, he was engaged in conversation with one of the interviewers, entirely ignoring the way the majority of the studio were vying for his attention.

"He sure is handsome." Ann mused.

"Seriously?" Ryuji said. “ _Him?_ ”

“Yes, _him_.” Ann rolled her eyes. "Don't you agree, Akira?"

"Uh." Akira articulately replied, because he hadn’t really thought about it.

Ann threw her hands up in frustration at his lacklustre response. Ryuji snorted, leaning back on his chair, leg brushing against the bag as he did so. "Guys just don't notice that shit. I mean, sure, _Yusuke_ does, but he’s-"

“Shut up, they’re starting.” Ann hissed. When Ryuji ignored her, continuing his sentence, she dug her elbow into his side. Ryuji grunted, but did fall silent. The main lights dimmed and stage lights were switched on.

They watched as _Akechi, Goro_ dismissed the Phantom Thieves.

Akira didn’t take offense to this - they were still rather unknown, and, if in the wrong hands, their powers _were_ dangerous. He tried not to examine this fact and the knowledge he had about the Black Mask too closely.

This wasn’t too difficult to do, because now that Akira had the thought thrown to the forefront of his mind, he began to notice that Akechi _was_ attractive, but handsome wasn’t quite the fitting word for it. Up on the stage, all of his sharp lines were emphasised, bringing attention to the sharpness of his jawline.

It suited him, made him look _untouchable._

"What an asshole." Ryuji grumbled in an undertone.

Ann hummed softly; a hushed, noncommittal sound. "I wish he wasn't so harsh about it..."

"He has no reason to trust us." Akira pointed out, equally quiet. "We'll prove him wrong."

After twenty minutes of talking - and, tragically, being _personally_ asked questions by the interviewer, and going through the indignity of being addressed as _Kurusu-chan_ \- they were dismissed and free to wander for ten minutes. He waited around the studio, not too keen on being selected for more manual labour, keeping his head down.

“Hello again.”

Polite, mild, with a strange sharpness to the edges. 

_Akechi._

Akira glanced up, surprised at being addressed. He had never been good at courteous small talk - mainly listened as others talked - and for a second, he wondered where Ann was. “Hello.”

At least they weren’t both incompetent at social interaction. Akechi inclined his head, taking note of the tone, and offered a slight smile, one that Akira could just tell was practiced, a _default_. “Mind if I join you for a moment? You look very lonely.”

Akira huffed a laugh. “Sure.”

He was unsure of what to do with his hands, so he stuffed them in his pockets. Akechi traced this movement with a keen eye, and asked, “Do I make you nervous, Kurusu-san?”

There was something else to his tone. The same edge it had possessed yesterday, and this time, it was directed entirely at Akira. Beneath the generic layer of concern was a seemingly sincere level of curiosity. As though Akechi genuinely didn’t know the answer to this. Akira tilted a shoulder, watched the other closely. “Why would you?”

Something in Akechi seemed to relax at this, though his eyes kept that sharp, evaluative glint. “That’s what I was wondering.”

With that being said, Akechi bid him farewell, walking back to the centerstage without a backwards glance. Akira watched him leave, feeling oddly wrong-footed. There was little point in reflecting on this - it wasn’t as though he would ever meet Akechi again.

When Ryuji returned, he pressed away all thoughts of Akechi and his sharp, calculative gaze. They began hauling equipment again, with Morgana opting to be toted around with Ann rather than suffer in solidarity.

The entire day, asides from the unexpected comment - ‘ _Do I make you nervous, Kurusu-san?_ ’ - felt entirely remiss. At least, after this, he would be given a day off. He wondered what he would do on Sunday, then wondered what he would be doing once he got back to the Leblanc.

It didn’t take too much consideration, because he already knew exactly what he was going to be doing. He was impatient, a coil of restless energy. He walked home as quickly as he could without causing Morgana to complain about motion sickness, and soon, they were in the attic bedroom.

“What’s up?” Morgana asked from the desk. Akira kept his back to him as he sneaked his dagger and model gun into the pockets of his blazer. “You seem agitated.”

“Pent up energy.” Akira replied. “I’m going-”

“-on a walk.” Morgana finished for him. “Make sure you’re back early. It gets dark really quickly these days…”

Akira nodded, mostly to appease Morgana, and began to head out. Sojiro raised an eyebrow at him but made no comment.

By the time he reached Mementos, some of the tension had eased. He supposed that, yesterday, he didn’t really have a chance to challenge himself. After a pause of consideration, he hopped down onto the tracks, deciding that - should the opportunity come up - he would go deeper than the second floor into the labyrinth.

Every five minutes or so, he would try to get a feel of the area around him, making sure that he was the only Persona user in the vicinity. Towards the seventh check, he began to relax. If the Black Mask hadn’t shown up by now, chances were he was occupied elsewhere.

He fought his way to the third floor, and decided that, for now, this would be as far as he went. He could already sense the energy differences between this section and the first two.

It was nice to finally be required to use his Persona. The shadows here were an actual threat - still easy to cope with, of course, but Akira knew that if he became overconfident, they would eventually overpower him.

Towards the forty minute mark, he began to head back.

And soon found that he _couldn’t._

It took passing the same notch in the same wall a grand total of _seven times_ for him to grudgingly admit that he was _lost._

He tried again, taking a left instead of a right, and for a hopeful moment, he thought he had finally bested the hellish loop he had found himself stuck in. Then, his eyes found the stupid fucking notch in the wall, and he could _taste_ the frustration himself.

There was no point in moping. He took a breath, then another, and began to make his way out of the area. He took a few steps forward, glancing between the left and the right path, trying to sum up which was his best option. He decided on the former, and took a few more steps forward.

There was a loud, mocking sigh and Akira _froze_. 

“By all means, take that left again. I’m sure _this_ time it’ll be your way out.”

Akira had to glance upwards in order to see him. The Black Mask had found a high up alcove, roughly fifteen meters from the ground, his legs lazily outstretched. He fixed Akira a look that simply _radiated_ boredom.

Akira briefly wondered how he managed to get up there before deciding that he truly didn’t care. With more sharpness than he intended, Akira asked, "Here to gloat?"

"Perhaps." The Black Mask elegantly leapt down, then leisurely approached Akira with an inscrutable quality. Stubbornly, Akira disregarded the mocking comment about yet another left turn, sticking to his original plan.

Surprisingly, the Black Mask fell into step with him, posture relaxed and self assured - it was clear he saw Akira as no real threat. He didn’t speak for a few minutes, until they ended up back at the same twelfth-damned notch. "You know, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Akira considered trying again, but he conceded the fact that there was a slim chance of him making his way out alone within the next few hours. He turned, facing the Black Mask. "Could you help?"

The Black Mask smirked, clearly expecting this response. "Now why on _earth_ would I do that?"

"The kindness of your heart?" Akira tried, baselessly optimistic.

There was an extended pause. Then, the Black Mask _laughed._ Akira stared, shocked, as the other continued with a wry, "Careful, I may start to think you have a sense of humor.”

Akira had some difficulty conflating this person with the same one who had him pinned by the neck and helpless under twenty four hours ago. He rocked back on his heels, raking a weary hand through his hair. He tried again, attempting to appeal to the uncanny sense of enjoyment that the Black Mask got from watching him struggle. "It'd be a shame if I died here - a really _boring_ way to go."

"You're manipulating me." The Black Mask observed, immediately seeing right through his clumsy attempt of persuasion, but instead of sounding disgusted, or even angered, the Black Mask sounded positively _gleeful_. "Who knew the leader of the Phantom Thieves had such an unsavoury side?"

It was clear the Black Mask was trying to throw him with this information - that he knew Akira’s involvement in matters outside of Mementos - and for a second, it worked. Akira had faltered, and it was enough for the Black Mask to make an amused noise.

It hardly mattered if the other knew about this. As long as his identity (that of Kurusu, Akira) remained hidden, then he was arguably safe. There was a pause and Akira realised that the Black Mask expected a response. He frowned. "Everyone has a side to themselves they would rather keep hidden. Isn’t that why you modulate your voice?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions about me." The Black Mask replied, tetchy.

Akira’s frown deepened minutely. "You're very standoffish."

"And you're a _nuisance_. I have _plans_ for you, and you seem _very_ determined to die before they come to fruition."

Ah. That explained why Akira hadn’t been killed yet, despite obviously getting on his nerves. At least there was currently a guarantee of his (relative) safety in the presence of the Black Mask, which came as a minor relief.

Simultaneously, though, Akira highly doubted these plans involved a friendly heart-to-heart and no violence whatsoever. “I’m sorry my potential death is such an inconvenience for you.”

This rewarded him with a sharp exhale. Akira couldn’t tell if this was from amusement or frustration. A minute or so stretched between them, in which he could feel the Black Mask’s eyes secured on him. Akira did not look back.

Eventually, the Black Mask spoke. “Take a right, then two lefts. If you die between there, or get lost again, it would be your own fault."

"So it would be your fault beforehand?" He asked, turning to face the other, and wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself peering into darkness. He followed the instructions given, which panned out to be truthful.

He made his way to the entrance of Mementos, having spent half an hour longer than he had originally intended. At least his previous irritability was well and truly gone, replaced by exhaustion. Before exiting, he paused, turning to face the path in front of him.

Quietly, he lifted a hand in farewell, unsure if the shadows twisting around him shrouded the Black Mask.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday morning came to him with far more protest than it usually did. The hours of fighting and blindly wandering the third floor of Mementos - despite the eventual assistance of the Black Mask - were enough to make his calves and thighs ache into the next day. This was in addition to the general exertion of travelling between worlds on the back of a full afternoon. Morgana was right, he should've rested up.

Though, speaking of Morgana, he was nowhere to be seen. Knowing him, he was likely just wandering around the district. Their paths were sure to cross should Akira willingly part from his impromptu nest of blankets.

He dozed for roughly an hour more before the lack of activity finally got to him, and he stood, getting changed into his regular clothes. Morgana was still unable to be found, so he headed downstairs.

“You’re up early.” Sojiro noted dryly.

“Late night.” Akira shrugged, to which he was rewarded with an arched eyebrow. He mumbled a _‘thanks’_ when a cup of coffee was passed to him. As per usual, the Leblanc was empty.

“Just don’t let it affect your studies.” Sternness was interwoven in his voice, and Akira was given yet another mildly disapproving look. He headed back over to the kitchen corner, leaving Akira to wait for the coffee to cool. Once that was finished, Akira stood, opening the door and grabbing his jacket in preparation to leave. Instantly, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Huh?” Akira said blankly, then paused. He raked through his memory, which soon brought up last week's conversation that included his agreement to help out on every second Sunday. “Oh. Right.”

He hung his coat back up, and was told to staff the head of the store whilst Sojiro went about cooking another batch of curry. On the _(very)_ rare occasion a customer would enter, Sojiro would quickly shoo him to the back, still not fully trusting Akira with dominion over the coffee beans. During this time, he busied himself by cleaning the used crockery.

Towards the middle of the day, Yusuke entered the shop, and went through his usual ritual; he took a moment in front of the Sayuri with a wistful expression, before ordering ‘ _whatever was recommended_ ’ and taking a seat. Sojiro allowed him to stay up front, and they carried a short conversation, then Yusuke began to focus on sketching.

It left him with nothing to do, so - after ensuring he wasn't fully in sight of Sojiro - he fumbled for his phone in hopes of finding mindless entertainment. The news mostly revolved around the topic of politics, and the Phan-site was devoid of any (worthwhile) requests. He had a quick exchange of messages on the group chat before Sojiro ducked his head out of the kitchen to reprimand him.

Each second crawled by, with the brief interlude of Sojiro ordering both Akira and Yusuke to sit at the counter and have some lunch. When Yusuke insisted on paying, Sojiro merely arched a stern eyebrow, which seemed to be the abrupt end of that conversation.

Another hour passed and the day was pulled into early evening, and Yusuke packed up his equipment, thanking Sojiro again for the ‘sustenance’ before leaving. This led to an approximation of fifteen minutes of silence, with Sojiro taking this opportunity to head out to the local store.

When the door opened, he had expected it to be Sojiro’s return, or even Yusuke coming back after having perhaps misplaced something.

Instead, he was surprised to see that the arrival was, in fact, the person from the studio - _Akechi_ \- who looked equally startled to see him there. There were a long few seconds of pause, in which Akechi took a half step back, glancing behind him as though checking to see if there was going to be some sort of ambush.

If Sojiro found out that he had scared away a customer, he would never hear the end of it. Plus, he didn’t especially enjoy making people nervous. Perhaps _nervous_ wasn’t quite the word to use; wary, perhaps. Cautious. Though, for what reason, Akira couldn’t place.

He was about to break the ice but Akechi bested him, taking a step forward into the premises and offering a small smile. "Kurusu-san, right? I'm surprised to see you here."

Akira lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug. "I work here sometimes."

"A colleague recommended this place to me - she never mentioned a part time worker.” Akechi hesitated for a moment or so before taking a place at the counter. “House blend, please.”

Akira peered at the door, but Sojiro had yet to return. It meant that he would have to formally make the coffee. For a moment, Akira felt absurdly worried that something would drastically go wrong, despite all the practice he had put in. He decided to produce more than necessary, just to check beforehand. It wouldn’t do well to accidentally poison a minor celebrity, after all.

It took around five minutes to sort it all out, and an extra minute to make sure he wouldn’t inadvertently ruin Sojiro’s reputation. It tasted… fine; similar to how Sojiro’s usually tasted but slightly less acidic. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but there was little point in trying again. This was likely the best he would do.

Akechi watched him carefully critiquing the drink with a tiny, amused grin. He thanked Akira, didn’t blink or question him when he leaned against the counter, the second cup curled carefully in his hands. The silence between them was somehow comfortable, as though they had met many times before, had enacted this exact thing.

It was a far cry from the awkwardness of their first meeting. Akira found himself furtively watching Akechi take a neat sip from the cup, and had to hide the pleased smile behind his own mug at the content hum. 

Even with the relaxed posture, Akira could simply tell that Akechi hadn’t entirely dropped his guard. Everything about him spoke to a casual demeanor, but there was something telling Akira that he was being watchful, observing Akira just as Akira was trying to subtly discern Akechi.

There was a mutual uncertainty, but underneath the skepticism, there was also a curiosity. Akira could sense something sharp and different lurking beneath the surface of Akechi’s facade, and, for some reason, there was something in turn that interested Akechi. Despite no words being spoken between them, Akira felt the beginnings of some form of tentative _bond._

It came as a strange disappointment when Sojiro came back into the store with a pair of flimsy plastic bags. To his credit, Sojiro took the surprise addition in his stride, and only faltered for a second before stepping into the kitchen, putting away various items. Akira moved to help, but he was soon waved off.

“I must be going.” Akechi said, standing to leave. He left a handful of yen on the counter and inclined his head politely. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Another friend of yours?” Sojiro asked the moment the door shut.

“Not really.” Akira replied, handing the money over. 

The day ended, and Akira flipped the _open_ sign over before locking up. He headed to the attic before changing clothes. It was strange not to see Morgana all day, but the cat had slipped into the room at some point, nestling against the foot of his bed. He snapped a picture and sent it to the group chat, because despite the assertive-bordering-stubborn personality, he was still a cat, and as a result, rather cute to look at.

The next day passed with the twin reveals of a new palace as well as a new Persona user in the form of one Nijima, Makoto. Outside of the Palace, when the majority of them were still trying to catch their breath, Makoto was quietly pacing, obviously deep in thought. Despite summoning her Persona for the first time, she still had enough strength to put together a hypothesis. 

“The mental breakdowns.” She began, frowning, and Akira immediately knew where she was going with this. “Is it possible that there is another Persona user behind them?”

Morgana also frowned. He seemed reluctant to add, “It’s beginning to look more and more likely…”

“We need to be extremely vigilant in each Palace, then.” Akira said, then paused. He could predict already that the Black Mask would be behind this - the other was confident, powerful, and obviously accustomed to the inner workings of the Metaverse. The reason behind this, however, was unknown, and the Black Mask didn’t strike Akira as one who acted on impulse. With all of this in mind, he added, “And Mementos.”

There are mumbles of agreement, and, with that, the point of infiltration is sorted. They go their separate ways, though Makoto wisely opts to be driven back. The awakening had taken a lot of energy from her, and it was obvious she was exhausted. Akira, however, was still filled with adrenaline.

It was still relatively early in the evening. He had time, and despite Morgana’s vocal protests of how he needed his sleep, he still decided to go out on one of his _‘walks’._

Even with the events of his last trip in Mementos two nights ago, he still felt an impatience brought around from a lack of challenge. Akira spent as long as possible in the first two areas, switching between floors, but it only takes twelve minutes to lose all interest in staying in the safe areas.

Akira had always been something of a risk taker.

He wandered to the third floor, taking care to note each turn he took. There would be no repeat of that situation - there was always the chance that the Black Mask would either not be present to bail him out, or merely refuse. The latter was more likely. He wondered if the Black Mask actually had a schedule, or if he was simply in Mementos every day.

After an additional five minutes of wandering, he picked up on another set of footsteps, deliberate in their dynamic, and Akira turned, unsurprised to find the other Persona user close to him. He appreciated the gesture; the Black Mask has already proven that he was able to move with silence, and had decided against startling him.

They fell into a slightly mismatched step, with Akira occasionally shooting the other inquisitive looks. The Black Mask seemed content with an oddly pensive silence - at least, as content as he could be given his general disdain for the world. Akira, however, felt rather uncomfortable with the quietness; it was unlike the Black Mask to not constantly threaten him or make jokes at his expense. This was why he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

"You’re far more trouble than you’re worth." The Black Mask mused, conversational, and _this_ was something Akira was more accustomed to. “I ought to kill you.”

"Probably." Akira agreed, recognising this as it was - an empty threat. "I'm a nuisance."

The Black Mask gave him a disapproving look at the casualness of the tone, but he continued to follow after Akira. They wander for a few more minutes, with Akira occasionally attempting to start up a conversation and being told, in no uncertain terms, to shut up, lest he be rewarded with a knife between the ribs.

Eventually, though, _something_ told Akira to stop. They were moments away from rounding the corner, but there was a sense of distortion - it made his steps falter quite significantly, and he shot an alarmed glance at the Black Mask, who seemed entirely unbothered. Akira carefully edged around the corner, keeping a keen distance between him and the Shadow.

He squinted against the gloom, and saw the red glow around it immediately. It was powerful, something that would take advanced planning in order to defeat with a group of four. Worse yet, it was blocking the exits. There was no way Akira would leave Mementos without fighting it.

"Now, how did that get here?" The Black Mask said, and suddenly it clicked. 

The Black Mask had been the one who brought that shadow up. Akira would throttle him if he wasn’t sure that would result in his untimely demise.

"You-" Akira cut himself off, surprised at _being_ surprised.

"I'd get ready to stand guard. This one will be _powerful."_ Akira was sent a sharp toothed grin, one that made his chest clench with dread. This was all the warning he got before the Black Mask brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. The noise instantly caused the shadow to turn.

"Fuck." Akira hissed, backing away, but realistically, he knew that the best chance he had was to wait around the corner and strike. It definitely wasn’t the advantage he wanted, but it was better than being on the short side of an ambush.

The Black Mask, of course, was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped away the moment he had made a sound. Akira then decided, quite viciously, that should he somehow survive this ordeal, he would make use of the remainder of his life irritating the Black Mask by whatever means possible.

The shadow lumbered around the corner, and Akira took a moment to steel his nerves before ripping the shadow’s mask off. It released an ear piercing shriek, flailed to the floor, emerging as a hulking figure covered in blood red armour with large, expanded wings. He took a moment, trying to assess which Persona would be best against this.

At the same time, it wasn’t as though he would be able to withstand more than two blows - three, if he was incredibly lucky - and Akira would therefore have to rely on his agility. Realistically, though, he would need to find a distraction and slip away from battle.

He called forth Eligor, and unleashed the strongest possible fire attack. He didn’t expect significant damage to be done, but still - the way the shadow barely even flinched at the flames was testament to the uneven power stratification. He was given a second to prepare and he dived out of the range of the attack.

It had been bless damage. This meant that the best counter would likely be a curse attack. Except, with some anxiety, he noted that he didn’t _have_ a Persona with that ability. He knew someone that _could_ but highly doubted there would be any intervention.

As it was, the person in question had taken to the sidelines, remaining somehow unnoticed by the shadow. He seemed _profoundly_ amused by something. "My, my. Seems you're in trouble."

"This is harder than it looks." Akira hissed, hostility dripping freely from his words. He attempted a physical blow, but just as before, it was barely noticed. Apprehension made his stomach turn. 

"Oh, but you already make it look so difficult." The Black Mask drawled.

"Are you going to help or just provide snarky commentary?” Akira didn’t move in time, and the right half of his chest and face were hit with a particularly powerful blow. It _burned,_ and he stumbled back from the sheer force of it, making sure to remain on his feet, but it was _difficult._ One more hit, he knows, and it would be all over.

"Good question." The Black Mask said, but Akira barely heard this over the ringing of his ears. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this. He healed himself to his best ability, and prepared himself to _run like hell_ after the next hit. With any fortune, the shadow would somehow miss.

This blow never came.

Suddenly, the Black Mask had stepped in front of him, with his Persona summoned to the side. Akira instinctively stepped back, alarmed. Without a word, the shadow - the same one he had _viciously struggled against_ \- was rapidly engulfed in inky tendrils. The Black Mask kept his hand firmly outstretched, the sense of severe concentration clinging to the sharp set of his shoulders.

After that, it barely took a minute. Akira had been correct in his original assumption of the weakness, but that information brought him little to no ease.

The fact was, he had almost _died._ And the Black Mask was able to kill that shadow with barely any effort. It meant that, should his assumption about the Black Mask and the mental breakdowns proved to be true, it meant that should they ever go face-to-face, the Phantom Thieves were in danger. He took a moment to try and calm the sudden wave of nausea, and gritted out, "Why the hell did you bring that up here?"

"To test you and your limits." The Black Mask replied, and his Persona wavered from the plane of existence before disappearing entirely. Akira sighed, raising a hand to the side of his face, wincing at the feeling of blood. He was used to the pain at this point, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed it. “I need to know what you’re capable of.”

“Is this a game to you?” Akira asked, sounding perhaps less accusatory than he had originally intended.

There was a small shrug. The Black Mask gave him a considerate look, before stating, “Everything is a game. Those who say otherwise are simply losing.”

There wasn’t really much Akira could say to that, aside from further emphasising, “I almost lost my _life.”_

“Please, as if I would let you die.” The Black Mask scoffed, as though it should have been obvious. Akira glared, because the whims of a seemingly omnipotent Persona user who _actively_ put him in harm’s way were not something he could ever safely invest in. There was a long pause, before the Black Mask fixed him an evaluative look. "You've sustained far more damage than I planned."

 _"Planned."_ Akira repeated with a huff. He began fishing around his bag to fetch out some poultices. It wasn’t a particularly decent salve, but it was nonetheless something he would have to use in order to avoid Morgana’s probing.

“That won’t work.” The Black Mask retrieved three life stones and Akira eyed them with scepticism. "Your equipment is too low grade, and do _not_ reject my assistance under some misfounded pride.”

The Black Mask threw up the first stone, then the second in quick succession, and Akira hissed in pain. The feeling of all his wounds suddenly closing was just as painful as having them being made. Unexpectedly, the Black Mask allowed him a few seconds of reprieve, turning the last stone in his hand. “I should have put an end to that before it got out of hand. You were seconds away from bolting, and that would’ve ended _poorly,_ to say the least.”

"You know, I've been calling you the Black Mask for about a week now." Akira stated.

"No cute little nickname, hm?" The Black Mask muttered, then gave Akira a warning look when he jerked a nod of confirmation. “Stay still, or it’ll hurt even more.”

"How about Kuro?” Akira offered.

There was a long pause. The Black Mask shifted, looking away, his gloved hands stilling momentarily. If Akira didn’t know any better, he would call the action _uncomfortable._ “I don’t need a name.”

“You don’t, but one word is easier than three.” Akira shrugged. Another warning look, so he stilled himself. The Black Mask raised the final life stone, then spun it in his hands.

As Akira bent double to recover, the Black Mask rolled his shoulders back. Tersely, he conceded with, "I suppose it’s acceptable.”

“What are you planning?” Akira asked lightly.

“Turn your head to the left. There are some areas the stones did not fix.” The Black Mask - _Kuro_ \- stated. Akira complied, allowing the other access. He didn’t flinch back when Kuro stepped forward, but he did wince at the coolness of the salve. There was a pause, in which the medicine was clinically applied to the minor wounds across his face. “Telling you would not benefit me.”

For someone so cold, Kuro had a surprising amount of body heat. Akira internally shook that thought. “Thank-”

Instantly, “Your gratitude is meaningless to me.”

At this, Akira tried and failed to not roll his eyes. “Fine. I’m not grateful for the medicine. I resent you for it, and I-”

“You’ve made your point.” Kuro interrupted, then tutted softly. “The mouth on you.”

For some reason, this brought a rush of blood to his face, and he tried to duck his head to hide the flustered rise of colour. There was a small, disapproving noise, and Kuro marginally increased the grip he had on his jaw.

He tensed, just barely, but allowed the Black Mask to continue applying the herbs. The majority of marks were against his cheek, which meant that, to the unaware, it was a more intimate scene. God, _now_ would be a good time to say something. He swallowed dryly, throat awkwardly, clicking.

Kuro’s eyes dragged across his face, examining his work, and he seemed satisfied. They made eye contact, and Akira felt _struck_.

For a desperate, frantic moment, he thought that they were going to make contact, _kiss_ \- and suddenly he _wanted_. The intensity startled him, but he didn’t dare move back, or speak, or do _anything_ that could break the trance they found themselves in.

Kuro relinquished his grip and took a step back, giving no indication that a moment had even passed between them. Perhaps it hadn’t - Akira was still fired up from the battle, one which Kuro was the cause of. “Adequate. You look less like you’ve repeatedly run into a brick wall.”

With that, he turned, and began walking away. The sting of disappointment surprised him, and Akira hurried to keep up. "You're still leaving?"

"Yes." The Black Mask idly stretched his arms back, fixing him a sidelong look. "Business, you know how it is."

"I don't." Akira replied honestly.

“Hmm.”

And with that, the conversation was over. Kuro quickly took to the shadows, blending in with an incredible ease, and within moments, Akira could no longer tell where he was. He sighed, both relieved and dissatisfied, and began to make his way back to the Leblanc. A quick glance in the reflection of his phone told him that whatever medicine the Black Mask had used was highly effective; already, the swelling was reduced, leaving tiny red welts.

Morgana would notice, as would Sojiro, but it was mild enough; he could easily explain it away as a minor fall. It took some convincing for Morgana to believe him, and Sojiro simply _didn’t_ but allowed the subject to drop.

The next week passed at a gruelling pace.

His face had almost entirely healed within the next day, but that hardly mattered when he was preoccupied within Kaneshiro’s Palace. He was too busy to even _consider_ heading back into Mementos, let alone actually go. Besides, whenever encountering the Black Mask, Akira needed all of his wits about him; last Sunday was a reminder of that fact.

The thought of that moment - when Kuro’s hand cupped his cheek, his body warmth leaking out and soothing the chill of the medicines - pointedly did not cross his mind. Or, more accurately, it did, but whenever Akira caught himself wondering what could have happened, he shook those thoughts violently.

God, Akira didn’t even know what he _looked_ like. There was something about that personality, though, and the confidence that had drawn him in. At the same time, Kuro was _insufferable_ in certain moments. Most moments, actually, but he made up for it by having some sort of humor.

He didn’t think about any of this, of course, because he was supposed to be focused on the main goal - stealing Kaneshiro’s heart. Eventually, they do succeed, and the _‘celebration’_ was more of a hastily arranged study session. Most of the group seem comfortable with their academic progress - or, at least, comfortable with their lack of progress.

Ann, however, seemed rather perturbed, as though the reality of mock exams had finally settled in.

This was how he found himself remaining in the Leblanc for another Sunday, even when he had the choice to leave. It would prove beneficial for him to also revise, and Ann insisted that she studied better with others. Sojiro allowed it with a small, put-upon sigh, and Akira decided to balance both occupying the front counter and answering questions.

They manage to slog through a thoroughly underwhelming two topics, given the fact that Ann seemed far more interested in whatever he was doing. By ‘interested,’ Akira was leaning more towards ‘procrastinating’ given her general lack of motivation.

Akira couldn’t blame her - the subject matter was dry, and the Phantom Thieves had a far more entertaining pastime. At this thought, he paused. Perhaps they should all visit Mementos; it had been some time since their last visit. At the same time, they ran into the risk of meeting Kuro.

There was no guaranteeing what would happen should this situation arise. He wasn’t even sure if the Black Mask would bother engaging with them if all of the Thieves were present. To make matters more complex, there was confirmation that the Black Mask was getting involved with their workings. He could bring that up to Kuro, and try to interrogate him on that, but he knew that this would simply be met with cold rejection.

The door chimed, and Akira glanced up.

The fact that Akechi had returned was a mild surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Akechi paused, glanced over to where Ann was huddled with her books, then quietly entered, gently closing the door behind him.

“House blend?” Akira asked and was rewarded with a smile.

“If you could.” Akechi confirmed, and Akira began the preparation.

Sojiro glanced around the corner, but due to his last success, his tight grip on the coffee reigns had eased. At Akira’s questioning look, he gave a small nod, so Akira continued. Ann looked up, surprised. "Akechi-san, I didn’t know you were familiar with the Leblanc."

Despite his improvement, Akira still didn’t quite trust himself with the curation of coffee, so he again added enough powder and water for two different cups, then added the beans. Akechi inclined his head, curious. "I apologise. I haven't quite caught your name."

"Ann.” Then, sensing that this may be considered too familiar, she hastily added, “Takamaki."

"You're supposed to be studying." Akira reprimanded, amused. He stirred in the other blends - the scent was soothing, and familiar, so he supposed he was on the right track. He added a thimble’s worth to his own cup, and waited a few moments for it to cool before testing, and deeming it good. Still not Sojiro worthy, but certainly close.

"Ah, so that's what brought you to the Leblanc.” Akechi paused, glanced down at the books. “Studying.”

Ann flushed, embarrassed for some inexplicable reason, and Akira passed the Akechi’s cup over to him. Their fingers brushed, just barely, and Akira immediately glanced up, watching Akechi’s expression. He was looking over at Ann, hardly noticing the contact.

"Could you help me with question four?" Ann said after a few seconds, frowning slightly. “It’s one of those weirdly phrased paragraphs.”

"Sure." He leaned over the counter to get a look, skimming over the paragraph.

"What's the question?" Akechi asked, sounding slightly curious.

"Situational ethics."

"Fitting." Akechi smiled to himself, lowering his gaze to the coffee cup held in his hands. It was an odd expression, one that held far more context to the situation, but at this point, Akira had grown accustomed to such looks. "Opinions, Kurusu?"

Akira returned to his own coffee, resting his back against the counter. "Choose the option that causes the least damage and benefits as many people as possible. Even if that goes against laws."

"Ah, so you take a more liberal approach." Akechi sounded far too unsurprised. "How much can be explained away?"

He shrugged. "Anything within reason."

"And what is within reason to you?” Akechi pushed, leaning forward slightly. His expression was uncharacteristically open, a bright, earnest curiosity at his opinion. “I can guarantee that we have different standards of ethics, and that is why we have the legal system."

“Even the legal system is prone to corruption.” Akira pointed out, and tried to ignore the familiar sting that came with recalling the bitter time in which justice failed him. 

There was a small, thoughtful hum. For a few seconds, Akechi fell silent, before piping up, "I agree. Laws are often unjust, but they are in place as a colloquial understanding of wrongdoing. Black and white; right and wrong."

"That's a very convenient way to see the world." Akira said.

Akechi grinned, inexplicably pleased at this observation. "Exactly. If everything is _‘good’_ or _‘bad,’_ you never challenge yourself. Without challenge, your victories are hollow and meaningless."

Akira ducked his head, picking up his cup. It was still too warm, but holding it gave him something to do. Abruptly, Akira remembered that Ann was still there. He cleared his throat, embarrassed at completely ignoring Ann in favour of Akechi, and he awkwardly placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Did you write any of that?"

Ann blinked. "Uh. It was difficult to keep up with."

Akechi gave a small sigh, looking mildly abashed, but there was a hint of unexplainable contentment. "I apologise if my input has made things more complicated. I often have a habit of getting over invested in philosophy. It seems Kurusu is the same."

"Who knew you had such an intellectual side, Akira?" Ann teased. She snapped the books in front of her shut, evidently giving up on studying for the day. Though, she still kept her notebook out.

Akira lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "Certainly not me."

“You’re selling yourself far too short.” Akechi said with a hint of light admonishment. In response, Akira has to bite back the smile he wanted to give at the hint of praise. He distracted himself by taking a few sips of the coffee, which had now cooled enough.

Ann stared at the paper for a few minutes, before placing her pen down with an uncharacteristically gloomy sigh. "I wish I was smart."

“Not all forms of intelligence can be measured." Akechi mused. After a few moments of silence, Akechi stood, offering a polite smile to them both. He placed the appropriate yen on the counter. "It was nice talking to you, Kurusu-san. Takamaki-san."

“So polite.” Ann said, but she was grinning. Akira watched Akechi as he left, and wondered where he would be going. There was little he knew about the other’s private life despite the seemingly limitless information Akechi had on him. After half an hour, Ann also left, cheerfully thanking him for his help despite him barely doing anything.

With the informal study session officially over and done with, Akira cleaned up the counter, before heading upstairs, back into the attic room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus,,, I hope the end conversation was interesting to read?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voila

He hadn’t been _avoiding_ Mementos per say.

For the first week or so, Akira simply didn’t have enough time. Between trying to form deeper bonds with his friends, as well as the slow investigation of Medjed and - later - Futaba’s Palace, each hour was counted and carefully regulated in order to squeeze the most potential from each day. 

Granted, the busy schedule had never stopped him before, but _before_ hadn’t included mixed feelings about a likely assassin and someone who would consistently put him in danger for seemingly no other reason than for fun.

And yet, in an odd way, Akira considered them to be friends. Few people challenged him the way Kuro did; so often, Akira would have to take charge, to be the wild card leader and always have the answers. He truly didn’t mind this role, but after too long being put on centre stage, he began to burn out, retreating into his introversion.

It was true that he always felt exhausted after each encounter. The sudden drop in adrenaline, and the instantaneous loss of that strange, electric energy left him drained. At the same time, it left him wanting. He enjoyed the other’s company, despite Kuro putting him in mortal danger every so often.

There was also the fact that he had wanted Kuro to kiss him, had even felt himself lean forward slightly. Akira didn’t know his name, or even know his face, but still, he was drawn, and that was dangerous. _Kuro_ was dangerous.

So. Akira distracted himself. He actually went for walks around the city. Futaba’s Palace was an exciting new diversion, but they inevitably reached the end, and finally defeated the cognition form of her mother. 

Then, unexpectedly, Futaba had lost her consciousness, and that left them all as sitting ducks. Akira could feel the restless energy of the group as though it was his own, and, usually, he would suggest a trip down to Mementos to help settle down the frayed nerves. However, so far, Kuro had been there every single time he had travelled alone in Mementos.

At the same time, they couldn’t simply ignore an entire section of the Metaverse just because their leader was nervous about how the Black Mask may attack and overpower them. They were growing stronger, Akira could feel it, but still - they simply weren’t strong enough.

Things come to a head on a lazy Sunday. There was still no news from Futaba, and the deadline was growing ever nearer the horizon. Towards the middle of the day, Morgana approached him, perching on the desk. Akira stopped making lockpicks in favour of listening to him as he said, “We haven’t gone to Mementos in quite a while.”

Akira made a small show of being surprised, giving Morgana an innocent look. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Morgana’s tail flicked and he added, “Makoto hasn’t even been there.”

“We do have a lot of pending requests…” Akira allowed, albeit with some reluctance. If they were going to go to Mementos, now would be the time - it would take a lot of time. At the visible way Morgana perked up, he resigned himself to a full day of fighting, and added, “Besides, it’s not as though we’ve got much to do, except for waiting for Futaba to wake up.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Morgana made an expression, one that Akira was certain would equate to a human smile. He pulled out his phone, sending a quick message to the group chat, before packing up the required equipment and leaving. He murmured an agreement at Sojiro’s instruction to not stay out too long.

He hung around the entrance for a while, trying to encourage Morgana to stay quiet, but accepted it as the lost cause it was when Ann and Ryuji arrived. After a few minutes of chatter - mostly with Akira listening and the other three bickering - the rest of the group had arrived, and they activated the Nav.

During the usual set up, Akira felt his eyes dart across each corner. It was needlessly paranoid, but the fact of the matter was, Kuro had said he had plans for _him,_ not necessarily the rest of the thieves. There was no telling how the Black Mask would respond.

“I call shotgun.” Ryuji called over, resulting in a collective round of complaining as well as indicating the end of preparation. They piled into the Mona Bus, and began to push through their workload.

It took until three floors for Morgana to announce that he felt a powerful presence in the floors beneath them. Akira immediately knew the reason behind it. The group summed it up to a particularly strong shadow, and within a few minutes, Morgana announced that the aura was gone.

Relief and disappointment were beginning to become very familiar feelings.

By the time they had worked through all twelve requests, Akira was certain that the group had been worn out, and the restless energy was abated for now. However, all those nights alone in Mementos had improved his stamina exponentially, and Akira still felt capable of more.

He knew better than to push, though, and decided to call it a day, much to the visible relief of others.

Slowly, they reconvened at the entrance. Morgana darted outside, checking to see if they were clear to re-enter their own world. Akira began to remove the additional guards and stash them into his bag. It took a few more moments than usual, given the fact that he was a little worn out.

He also had to balance casting _Diorama_ over them; sure, their wounds would automatically heal, but that would do nothing to help the strange, clinging exhaustion brought on by the Metaverse. It meant that he took a little longer to get ready.

He simply smiled back at her. It was fortunate that the Velvet Room was so close to the exit, and he was able to move to and fro unescorted. He glanced at the entrance, giving a small wave of greeting to Justine, but did not enter through the doorway.

Instead, he hopped down onto the platform, shutting his eyes in order to focus on the sense of raw power he had come to associate with the Black Mask. He couldn’t pick up on it, but when he opened his eyes once more, he saw the flick of black fabric turn the corner.

So, Kuro was somehow able to mask his aura. Akira wasn’t surprised; the other always seemed to be ten steps ahead of them all. Perhaps he was reading into things, but Kuro was so easily able to glide about in the shadows. The fact that he had caught sight of him at all was without a doubt on purpose.

"Hey!" Akira called over to him, and broke into a light jog. Soon, he rounded the corner, only to find that Kuro was half-way down the corridor. He scowled, increasing his pace. "Hey, wait up!"

Kuro seemed fixed on ignoring him. Akira scowled, gripping onto Kuro’s shoulder to keep him still and actually face him. For a moment, the Black Mask froze under his touch, muscles jumping and he reflexively turned.

Akira, who hadn’t expected Kuro to do anything other than shrug off his hand and keep moving, ended up crashing into the other’s chest. He gave a small, startled yelp, stumbling, but seemingly on instinct, the Black Mask curled a hand around his waist, steadying him before he could fall.

This time, Akira was the one who froze. Their chests were pressed flush, and they were close, close enough for Akira to feel nothing but the surprising warmth radiating from Kuro. All too soon, the Black Mask recovered, but instead of moving away, there was a jerk of his wrist.

Abruptly, he could feel cold, metal claws pressing into his lower back. The action caused Akira to automatically arch away from the blades, bringing him impossibly closer to Kuro. 

The Black Mask leaned down, just barely, and growled into his ear, " _Do not touch me._ "

Akira wanted to point out that Kuro was the one touching him, but he guessed that the other would likely not appreciate that observation. As though to underline his threat, Kuro dragged the back of his steeled knuckles up against his back.

Akira gave a helpless shiver, eyes never leaving Kuro’s face.

Then, abruptly, Kuro released him, stepping back and Akira instantly mourned the loss of heat. At least he had seemingly grown tired of ignoring Akira, and he cocked his head, asking in an unfairly exasperated voice, "What do you want, you nuisance?"

Akira crossed his arms, trying to regain his balance after Kuro had thrown him so off-kilter. “What makes you think I want something?”

There was a short, bitter scoff, one that spoke of profound experience. “Everybody wants something, no matter how well they play at virtue.”

The tone made him wince and, silently, Akira resolved to somehow change his mind. He gave a soft sigh, and suggested, "We could hang out."

 _"Hang out._ " The Black Mask repeated, almost venomously, as though such casual words pained him. Akira could feel Kuro fix him a glare, his jaw and shoulders tensing as he sneered, "We aren't friends."

"We could be." Akira said. There was a lengthy, disbelieving pause, which Akira could understand - their duties were diametrically opposed, and despite Kuro’s ‘plans’, Akira could still tell that his life would easily be forfeit should he misstep too badly. "I like your company."

Again, another gap in the conversation, and this one was far more sceptical than the last. Eventually, Kuro relaxed, seeming more his self-assured, cocky self. He inclined his head. "I do not like yours. You irritate me."

Akira could feel himself deflate. "Ah."

Funnily enough, Akira had forgotten that not killing him on sight equated to friendship. It hadn’t occurred to him that the interest, the unequivocal draw was not matched, even to the tiniest degree. He had assumed, given the way Kuro shadowed him, there was at least a mild curiosity. The Black Mask fixed him a long look, before shaking his head. 

"Keep up. I won’t wait for you, and we both know how poor your wayfinding skills are." Akira perked up, hurrying after Kuro as he soundlessly strided into the dark. Abruptly, the Black Mask paused, and Akira slid to a stop, silently thanking his quick reflexes. "No questions?"

"I trust you." Akira said, and surprised himself with the sincerity.

For the first time, Akira wished that Kuro wasn’t so covered - the most he could see was a soft, downturned curve to his lips. Instead of mocking Akira for his optimistic naivety, the Black Mask merely led the way down to the resting area on the third floor.

He kept to his earlier threat, keeping a rapid pace, seemingly uncaring of whether or not Akira could match his speed - it meant that he had to engage in a light jog. Still, Kuro disappeared from sight, only to be rediscovered when Akira finally reached the area.

For a moment, Akira had to bite back a smile.

He was beginning to appreciate just how performative the other could be. There would only have been a minute or so between their arrivals, but during that time, Kuro had decided to scale the wall of the waiting room to perch jauntily on the roof.

It was vastly impractical, and the only purpose this action had was to make a scene.

Akira didn’t comment on it , not trusting his voice to hide just how endeared the action had somehow made him. Kuro elegantly leapt down, stretching his shoulders back as he asked, "How are you when it comes to hand-to-hand combat?"

"I can hold my own." Akira said, somewhat defensive at the tone of voice - mild, vaguely interested, as though Koro already knew the answer but was merely humouring him.

"You can, against those who are untrained.” Kuro corrected wryly. “If you lasted a minute against me, I'd be impressed."

“I’m not weak.” Akira protested

“No, you aren’t weak.” Kuro lazily agreed. He clasped his hands behind his back, looking oddly formal, and began to pace a slow, idle circle around Akira. The look he was given was one of evaluation, and it made him squirm, uncomfortable under such scrutiny even with the confidence of Joker. Kuro added, “You’re untrained. Undisciplined.”

Akira jutted his chin. “You said a minute, right?”

“You wish to fight me?” Kuro asked, and sounded far too amused.

Akira just wanted to challenge that assured, knowing attitude - to prove himself, to maybe even knock off that smug smile for a few seconds and actually surprise him. Besides, it couldn’t be too difficult; one minute in hand-to-hand combat with someone about the same height and weight.

“A friendly fight.” Akira elaborated, because suddenly, there was something sharp, something coiled and dangerous in the Black Mask’s pose. It reminded him of the first moment they met. With that in mind, he added, “Well, as friendly as a fight can get.”

“One minute.” Kuro repeated gently. “If you win, you’ll have the honour of proving me wrong.”

“And if I lose?” He asked, and, as expected, Kuro merely smiled in response. Akira scowled, and even though butterflies began to flutter low in his chest, the moment that infuriating ride made a resurgence, he had made up his mind. “Alright. You’re on.”

There was a few seconds of pause, in which Kuro watched him as he fetched out a digital watch and tied it to his wrist. Then, after being given a small incline of the head, he started the timer.

There was a second.

Then, Kuro _pounced_.

Instantly, Akira jumped back, trying to place some distance between them and capitalize on his ability to make sharp, quick motions to evade any hits. He was the second fastest member of the Phantom Thieves, barring Ryuji, and the movement should have been seamless.

Instead, he was knocked, just barely more than a graze but still enough to make him stumble. He soon realised that there was no way he would beat the Black Mask with agility. Still, he didn’t have time to come up with another plan, save from going on the offensive.

He decided that this was the best decision. Akira allowed Kuro to continue driving down his defence with quick, light blows - meant to tire him out, make him _slip up_ \- and rarely, he would manage to dodge one entirely.

The entire point of sticking to strictly defensive moves was to somehow knock Kuro off guard when he switched to attacks of his own. The most he got was a soft, surprised noise, one that he _revelled_ in despite its brevity.

There was a sharp blow to his shoulder, and with a small hiss, he quickly realised this was the beginning of the end. Akira aimed a kick at Kuro’s knees, trying to prolong the inevitable. It succeeded in putting some distance between them.

“That was a cheap move.” Kuro called, a wild grin carrying through his voice. Akira didn’t reply, focussing on the battle between them. Kuro moved to the left; Akira darted to the right, maintaining the same amount of distance.

Akira soon saw what Kuro had rapidly managed to do; he was being backed into a corner, as Kuro had kept him too occupied attempting to avoid the insubstantial punches. He still had time, still had a chance, and he could still find a way to stay on his feet - all it would take is a small gap in his defences.

When none became apparent, Akira knew he had to make a move.

He feinted to the right, before lunging to the right.

For a sanguine moment, it felt as though he had managed to buy some time.

Then, abruptly, Kuro slammed his entire body weight against him, simultaneously sweeping his ankle and causing him to slip to the floor, only just managing to twist his body and land on his back.

Quickly, he tried to get to his feet, but before he could even regain stability, Kuro had pressed his advantage, straddling his hips to keep both his upper and lower body out of commission. 

Akira immediately tried to push him off, but instead, Kuro pulled his wrist towards him, surprising him and catching him off-guard. Kuro then tapped the interface of the watch, effectively pausing the timer.

He tutted with mocking disappointment. "Fifty-seven seconds. How _disappointing."_

Akira shivered beneath him, helpless to do anything else. This caused Kuro to give a sardonic smirk, dropping his hand back and placing a hand against his chest, directly over his heart.

This movement caused the reality of their position to settle in. Kuro, the Black Mask, had his hands resting against his rib cage, his thinly muscled thighs bracketing low against his waist, keeping him down with solid, warm weight. He was trapped, and instead of feeling even a fraction of apprehension, all he could feel was electricity, jolting down his spine and coming to rest as a heady coil in his stomach.

What Akira could see of Kuro’s expression had stuttered, faltering for a second. At Akira’s hesitantly questioning look, there was a small, sharp exhale - a gentle, almost incredulous laugh, and for once, it was not _mocking._ “Your pulse. It would seem you _enjoy_ being held down.”

Akira winced, because he was fucking _right,_ and he _knew_ it. He began to squirm under the hold in an attempt to escape. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that it was half-hearted at best. Although, it got the expected result; Kuro made a displeased sound, pushing down harder.

This caused his breath to catch in his throat. He brought a hand up, intent on doing something - pushing Kuro off, _drawing him closer_ \- but his wrists were firmly grabbed with a single hand and pinned directly above his head. This action caused Kuro to lean over him, almost pressing their chests flush. Hissed, sharp and acidic, Kuro demanded, _"What did I say about touching?"_

He found himself latently arching into the contact, breathing slowly becoming shallow and rushed. After a few seconds, he realised what he had been doing, and settled himself back. In spite of the reluctant submission, Kuro stayed leant over him, still gripping his wrists. He scowled up at the Black Mask. “You went for my ankles. That’s a cheap move.”

There was an unrepentant hum in response, one that Akira _felt_ reverberating against his own chest. “You could hardly expect me to play by what’s fair. This is to prove a point - and I'd say it's well proven."

"Yeah." Akira breathed. Kuro did not move back. Instead, the hand against his wrists squeezed, and it took all of his focus to remain still and not writhe against the body above him. There was no way in hell Kuro couldn’t notice his flushed cheeks, the dilation of his pupils, or the embarrassingly winded way his voice sounded.

He wanted, and keenly at that.

It felt as though his entire body was a livewire, and the places that he was up against Kuro were electrified. Even with the majority of his face being covered with that damned mask, Akira could sense the intense, unyielding look the other was giving him, strong enough to be registered like a physical presence, dragging slowly against his face, drinking in his expression with a degree of smugness.

Long seconds passed like this, with Kuro crushing him under his weight, the grips against his wrist loosening just barely, but Akira obediently kept them in place. Part of him wanted to disobey the wordless command, to push Kuro and see what he would do. 

The more dominant part, however, wanted to remain pliant. Maybe Kuro would lean further down, finally removing his mask in favour of slotting their lips together. Akira’s gaze dropped from his shaded eyes to lower. Then, abruptly, Kuro was gone, releasing his wrists entirely and leaning back. They were no longer chest-to-chest, but still, Kuro made no move to leave him entirely.

Akira followed after him, sitting up to chase after his warmth. The next words that spilled from his mouth were confused, dazed. “Wait, why-?”

"If you want something, it's best you say." Kuro shrugged, nonchalant, as though straddling his enemy’s waist was an everyday occurrence.

He faltered, hesitating. It was clear that they both knew what he wanted, but Kuro seemed entirely reluctant to make a move without him explicitly stating it. The expectant pause dragged into one of mild disappointment, and Kuro scoffed, unimpressed and unsurprised. As though he doubted Akira had the conviction to say what he wanted.

"I want you to kiss me." Akira said softly.

For a moment, Kuro seemed nonplussed, obviously not expecting an answer, and suddenly, Akira was fiercely glad that he had admitted it. He quickly recovered, though, and tilted his head just slightly to the left.

"I know." He condescendingly cupped Akira’s cheek with a gloved hand, too-cool talons drawn and digging into his too-warm skin, but not quite breaking his skin. Within an instant, Akira knew that he would not be getting what he had asked for. He was proven right when the Black Mask added, "Lovers kiss, and we are not lovers - we're rivals."

There was a promise in his voice, leaden and unwavering.

His throat was dry as he asked, "And what do rivals do?"

"They fuck." Kuro simply replied.

Akira’s breath caught in his throat and he stared, wide-eyed at the Black Mask, startled at the sudden forwardness. Kuro hummed softly in response, unbothered by his reaction, dragging the cold metal gently against his cheek, then lower to his neck. 

Subconsciously, Akira raised his chin, allowing access. He soon caught up with this action and froze, then noted that Kuro had also paused. There was a soft laugh, one more wondering than derisive.

“For a later date, of course.” Kuro added, and Akira thought that he heard an amused smile curling around the words. Then, the Black Mask stood to his feet, and fully off of Akira, finally dismissing him.

Akira, with his common sense entirely fried after having Kuro’s firm, hot body pressed against his for a few minutes, could only manage to sit up, staring after Kuro as he walked away. He shivered against the sudden cold, before crossing his arms.

Before turning the corner, Kuro glanced behind him, and threw a parting comment, just barely loud enough to be heard from their distance. “You need to practice your method. Less than one minute, Joker. Next time, I expect longer.”

Despite himself, Akira grinned.

_ Next time. _

**Author's Note:**

> comments motivate me :)


End file.
